


Pina Coladas at Trader Vic's

by blue_wo1f



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, harvey stop freaking out, it's all good, mike just wants to nap okay, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_wo1f/pseuds/blue_wo1f
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey's going to be buying him flea collars as a joke for the rest of forever, now. Or, the one where Harvey finds out Mike's a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pina Coladas at Trader Vic's

**Author's Note:**

> So i was interwebbing the other day, and realized i hadn't posted this, or my longer fic on this site. oops. a bit old now, written during the first season & just intended to be short and derpy.

The part where Harvey finds out that Mike’s a werewolf goes something like this:

It’s the full moon. Mike’s taken three days off work for the cycle. He’s managed to hold off shifting until more convenient times since he got hired (because he and his wolf half are on really good terms, and even it understands how much he needs this to work right), but ignoring the moon for four months in a row is a lot to ask for even a were as tolerant as Mike. So he’d called in sick yesterday morning and spent the rest of the day prepping for the change.

He’s snoozing, curled comfortably on the couch, when there’s a loud and rather alarmed sounding “Holy _shit!_ ” from the direction of the doorway. Mike jerks awake with a startled yelp, toppling off the sofa in a heap of limbs and fur. He spares a moment, as he struggles to his feet, to wonder how the hell Harvey got into his apartment and, more importantly, why the hell he didn’t notice him come in.

As soon as he has his paws back under him, Mike looks over at Harvey, who is, indeed, looking rather alarmed and maybe vaguely panicky, clutching the handle of a briefcase in a white-knuckled grip. Even had that been hidden though, Mike would still be able to smell the fear on him, and he takes a moment to breathe it in with perverse satisfaction. Seeing The Great Harvey Specter knocked off balance, in any way, Mike’s found, is a rare sight worth savoring. This feels just a bit cruel, however, so Mike steps forward a moment later.

Harvey’s backed against the doorframe, watching Mike apprehensively and looking ready to bolt at Mike’s slow approach. Mike pads forward carefully, making every movement slow and easy, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible in his current shape. When he’s only a foot or so away, he pauses, looking up to Harvey’s face. They eye each other for a few seconds, Harvey watching him with that nervous expression people get around large, unfamiliar dogs, and Mike considering how best to go about coaxing Harvey away from the open door. He decides that being direct will probably be the easiest in the long run (Mike’s seen how well human-canine charades work on old episodes of Lassie, thanks, and is more than willing to spare himself that indignity) and so, before Harvey can react, stretches out in one swift, smooth motion and gingerly snags Harvey’s sleeve between his teeth.

There’s a brief moment when all the smells hit Mike: soap from the office restrooms, traces of the sandwich Harvey must have had for lunch, foreign cologne (presumably from a client) and familiar perfume (Donna). There’s the scent of paper and ink (from the printers and Harvey’s fountain pen both), leather (the upholstery in the car and Harvey’s desk chair), Harvey’s stupidly expensive cologne, aftershave, shampoo, hair gel, and underneath it all the distinctive scent that is just _Harvey._ He mentally shakes himself and returns to the task at hand.

It takes a few moments of gentle tugging (Harvey will kill him later if there’s any damage to the suit), and maybe a soft, slightly frustrated growl, to get the man to move. Once Mike’s gotten him a few feet into the room he lets go, brushing past to nose the door closed again, then promptly plants himself in front of it, sitting with his tail curled loosely around his paws. Harvey’s still watching him, still looking edgy, but the fear smell isn’t as strong as it was before. Mike waits patiently from his spot by the door, and sure enough, Harvey shifts awkwardly, brow furrowing, and he says “Mike?” in a cautious, wary tone Mike hasn’t heard before.

Mike can’t help himself. He snorts, rolling his eyes in a human gesture that feels alien on this face. This whole situation is just so totally freaking _surreal_ and the humor of it has finally caught up with him. Also the irritation at having his nap interrupted. It’s the latter that prompts him to rise and move back to his spot on the couch. Harvey shuffles quickly out of his way, and Mike huffs out an amused breath. _This is probably the only time that that’s going to happen._

He flops easily back onto his previously abandoned spot and curls back up. He doesn’t know why Harvey is here, and at the moment he doesn’t really care. (Logical thinking is hard when he’s like this, and he’s done more than enough for the night.) He’s more or less established himself as a non-threat, so there’s isn’t much more he can do until he’s human again. If Harvey wants to leave, he can. _Or he can stay,_ Mike thinks idly, though he can’t imagine the man would want to. Mike’s apartment is tiny.

Everything is still and quiet for a while. Mike starts to doze off again. But then there’s the quiet fabric rustle of Harvey’s suit and the soft thump of his shoes against Mike’s crappy hardwood floor, and then Harvey is standing at the opposite end of the couch. Mike opens an eye and twitches his ears in his direction.

Harvey looks like he’s debating with himself, and Mike watches sleepily as his boss hesitates, scowls, and then carefully sits down. He’s eyeing Mike warily again, still tense, and again, Mike waits patiently for words.

“I expect a full explanation later.”

Mike wuffs softly in response. Harvey relaxes back against the couch a bit. He pulls out a few files from his briefcase and opens one on his lap. Mike closes his eyes again.

“…and if you shed on this suit, I _will_ kick your ass.”

Mike snorts, not bothering to open his eyes. But his tail is thumping lightly against the cushion.


End file.
